


Máni's Guide To Surviving The Other

by Anonymous



Series: Vikings and Destiny [1]
Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Original Work
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV First Person, Past Tense, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Supernatural Elements, Swedish Mythology & Folklore, Wakes & Funerals, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: My grandfather died three years ago. We buried him a few days after Christmas. He left me a family secret.
Series: Vikings and Destiny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126589
Collections: Anonymous





	Máni's Guide To Surviving The Other

My grandfather died three years ago. We buried him a few days after christmas. My little sister had a cold so she couldn’t come, so I was the only one in my family to go. It hurt a bit, too see my grandma cry but being unable to get close to her. She stood all alone in the front, wearing a black dress. Grandpa had bought if for her, he was always certain that he would die before her. 

After the funeral, I was meant to go to a hostel but grandma stopped me, “Grandpa left you something.” Her hand on my shoulder was cold and frail. Her eyes were open and large, I didn’t have the hearth to decline. 

My grandmother lived in the suburbs. It was a small house, only one floor and a tiny basement that grandpa had used as an office. No-one but him had been allowed in there. He started sleeping there, the months before he died. 

My grandpa had been ill for a long time before he passed. He became irritable and defensive. When grandma wanted to adopt a stray he screamed at her, saying that she was never allowed to so much as look at a stray animal. He nearly hit her, but stopped himself. After that he locked himself into the basement and. Grandpa used to hunt, and he had a rifle in the basement. 

My grandfather had never been abusive in any way, he was a grumpy old man but he loved grandma. He hated summer and the sun, he never wanted to do things but he loved us. Once a year him and grandma would travel to Spain, just to sunbathe. He moved from the cold winters of northerns Sweden to scania just for her, so that she could bask in a slightly warmer climate. When grandma fell pregnant with my uncle, he quit his job. He worked as a pilot but grandma wanted him home more so he started working in the school as a maths teacher, he hated every second of it but he loved grandma and their small family. 

I helped grandma carry her bag, the strays she had taken in started barking when they heard her keys jingle. The largest one, Smörboll, jumped at her and licked her face. Smör was a mutt with ragged black fur and sharp teeth. She loved grandma. Grandma had found her walking the road a few weeks after grandpa died. She took the starving dog in and learnt that she was pregnant. Grandma ended up with five dogs and a previously dead house. 

After saying ‘hello’ to the dogs, grandma turned to me, “It’s in the basement.” she stroked my cheek, “I’ll wait up here. There is dinner when you’re feeling done.” 

I walked down the wooden steps to the basement. The door was open for the first time in my life. I pressed down the handle and walked into an empty room, save for a beam and a bed. There was a strange figure carved into the beam. Eight sticks originated from a circle, each stick had three vertical lines running through them and a bowl shape before the end. I reached out to touch it, and found it cool beneath my fingers. 

That’s when I saw it. The book laying on the bed. It had the same symbol sewed onto its leather cover. It was rested against the wall, a white note tied to it. The note was written in my grandpa’s handwriting. I took it up and started reading the note. 

My Name  
Before you open my last gift to you, you must understand how important it is. It has been handed down through our family ever since Mundilfare lost his children. It’s not an easy gift to have, it will wear you down until you break but nonetheless it is important. Not just for me but for all of humanity that you take upon this burden I so dreaded to give you.  
All my love, grandpa.

I put the note in my pocket and opened the book. The first page had this list on it. Some parts were written in graphite instead of some dark substance. 

Máni’s guide for surviving the Other 

1\. Be smart, don’t do anything stupid.  
2\. Never go alone into the wild, always be more than two.  
2,2. DO NOT interact with anyone not wearing iron,silver or plastic (plastic’s written in graphite.)  
2,3. If you hear non-human voices, RUN!!!  
3\. DO NOT play games with SACRIFICE in them.  
4\. Don’t take in strays.  
5\. Don’t touch any weapons,food,clothing,gifts or jewelry you find, not even if it’s addressed to you.  
This is also written in graphite  
6\. Don’t acknowledge anyone not wearing plastic.  
7\. Don’t tell others about the Other.  
8\. If an Other is following you, act calm. DO NOT run, find plastic.

I snorted at the stray part, clearly grandpa had believed it. Although it was a bit odd that grandma had found a stray here. It was a nice area and there had been no signs of abandoned dogs before or after grandma found Smör. But stranger things have happened. 

I was about to put the book down when I heard grandma scream from upstairs. There was the sound of claws scratching against the wooden floor. The dogs were barking as if mad as grandma screamed. I could hear her running as I stood frozen. 

The dogs appeared in the doorway, blood still dripping from their jaws. They were illuminated by some silverish light emanating from the beam. Smör took a step forward and a beam of light shoot out, making her yelp. The dogs growled, their eyes like bottomless pits. 

I looked down at the list, an insane idea forming in my head. My phone case was made out of rubber and rubber is basically plastic. I put the book down and took up my phone. I lifted it and threw it at Smör. She screamed, truly screamed and ran up the stairs, the rest of the pack following her. 

I pressed the book close to me and ran out, grabbing my phone from the floor. I held it in front of me, like a weapon. Ready to strike. 

There was blood dripping down the stairs. I won’t describe my grandmother's body. Dogs can be vicious and inflict damage, real damage. 

Mom and dad picked me up from the hospital. The police had warned the residents of the dogs and were searching for them. Dad was driving, mom just stared in front of her, eyes blank. None spoke for the duration of the drive. 

My little sister was sitting on the porch. She ran up to the car, her eyes were red, “He broke the painting.” she wailed. Mom frowned. 

There was only one painting in our house. Mom’s late brother had left it for her. It was of a brunette sitting in the middle of the forest, feeding a unicorn as the full moon looked down on them. We were forbidden from touching it. 

My sister claimed that a strange man had simply walked into the house. He asked her where the painting was and when she told him he had taken out a knife and slashed it. Mom didn’t believe her. Then we walked in and saw the muddy footprints on the floor, leading to the painting. 

We drove to the nearest hotel and stayed there for the duration of winter vacation. I still had the book but I didn’t dare to open it. It just laid in the bottom of my drawer, buried beneath socks and shirts.


End file.
